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CRISIS AND CLIMAX
CRISIS AND CLIMAX firecrackers. You remember how first you took a cracker from the pack or from a box of loose ones already untwined from the central fuse. You touched the fuse to a bit of punk. There was a moment of anticipation and then the fuse lighted and burned slowly toward the thicker part where the powder had been added to the saltpetre- soaked paper. The smolder became a splutter. Your anticipation increased. Then the spark disappeared into the clay with which the cylinder was stamped; there was an instant of acute suspense—then the explosion. After that you lost interest in that particular cracker and turned to the next. It might have fallen to the ground to smolder for a while and burn out, or it may have blown under the piazza to set fire to the house, but your interest in that particular cracker was gone. It ended when the cracker exploded, for that was your object in touching off the fuse. When the explosion came the climax of anticipation was reached and passed. You turned to another cracker. It is much the same with a plot. The cracker is the theme you have in mind. The lighting of the fuse is the start of your story. The moments of minor suspense are crises and the Instant of the explosion is the climax. That is what you have been waiting for. Toward that end you have performed all of the earlier operations. Nothing can be of greater moment than the explosion, because it was your object in lighting the cracker to cause it to explode. It follows then that A crisis is the peak of a moment of suspense. A climax is the termination of the suspense and the accomplishment of the object aimed at from the start. Once the climax is reached and your object is achieved, the story, like the exploded firecracker, loses interest. There may be something more, but it should be your aim, in photoplay, to end the story when the climax ends suspense. This differs from the teaching of the drama where the last act is supposed to be reserved for the falling action following the climax, but photoplay is not drama, and in photoplay the climax should be so led up to that there is nothing more to follow and detract from the interest. Nothing in your play can be of greater moment than your climax, therefore whatever follows the climax is falling and not rising action and the longer it continues the more tiresome does it become. In this regard the technique of the photoplay is more closely akin to the technique of the one-act play, where the curtain should, if possible, fall upon the climax and not a couple of minutes later. To illustrate, we Will suppose that Joe, our protagonist, and Ben, the antagonist, both love Jane. Jane prefers Joe. Ben murders Harry and declares that Joe killed him in a moment of jealousy. Jane discovers that Joe really is the murderer. The object of the play is the union of Joe and Jane. The achievement of that object should, if possible, be the climax, but here the climax is found in the discovery by Jane of the fact that Joe is the murderer. Unless it can be managed to make the release of Joe of greater importance than the discovery, then the suspense ends with the discovery, sinee the rest is merely a matter of detail. Perhaps it can be planned. To continue the use of the plot above, let us study the crises and climax. The first scenes naturally establish the fact that Joe and Jane are sweethearts. This may be shown in action with a pretty back- ground, but there is no particular value to the scene. There is nothing as yet to gain interest, for there is nothing to show that this court- ship will offer anything out of the ordinary. But there comes Ben to show that he, too, seeks Jane's favor. Now interest rises because there is to be opposition. It will not be plain sailing for Joe. We not only reach the opposition, but also the first crisis—mild enough, it is true, but crises should grow in strength as the action progresses. The crisis perhaps takes the form of Ben's oath that Jane will marry him under duress if not of her own free will. The second crisis is that Ben seeks to abduct Jane and carry her off to the minister. This scene does not immediately follow the first, for each crisis must be followed by a falling action to give the spectator time to prepare for the next crisis. We first see Ben making his plans, then the attempt and the rescue by Joe, which forms the second crisis. This crisis is stronger and more forceful than the first, but part of its strength is derived from the first crisis—Ben's oath, in the light of our preference for Joe. If we did not know of Joe; if favor had been thrown to Ben, we might be glad he was going to get Jane, but, wanting to see her married to Joe, Ben's action is more forceful and exciting because it is an obstacle to Joe's success. Each crisis should be possessed of greater strength than its prede- cessors, but may derive a part of this strength from previous crises. Again there must come a period of preparation. It cannot be as weak as the opening of the story nor even the preparation for the ab- duction. Just as each crisis must be stronger than the last, so must each period of falling action be stronger than the preceding periods. When the tide is coming in, each wave breaks higher up the beach than the last and does not go quite so far back before being carried along by the next incoming wave. We are leading to a stronger crisis. We must do so in stronger action. Joe has reason to believe that Harry offers himself as a possible rival. The two quarrel. Jane comes upon them and begs them not to fight. They agree. Joe goes on and Jane argues with Harry. He agrees not to continue the quarrel. In an excess of gratitude she kisses him and runs away. Ben sees both the quarrel and the kiss. Mad with jealousy he kills Harry. This is not a crisis. The action has not yet been connected with Joe, the protagonist. It is not until Ben accuses Joe of the murder and calls upon Jane to deny that there was a quarrel that the crisis arises, for this does concern Joe. It pre- cipitates a crisis because it is the end of one period of suspense and the commencement of another. 12. In the falling action that follows Joe is tried and found guilty. The crisis comes with his sentence to death. In falling action Jane engages a famous detective- scientist to free Joe. Ben, sensing dan ger, shoots at the detective. The detective makes an analysis of the bullet from his arm and of a portion of the bullet which killed Harry. They are identical in composition. The proportions of metal in the bullets in Joe's revolver is different. With this information he forces a confession from Ben. This is the climax. All that remains is to present the confession, and either secure a reopening of the case or a pardon for Joe. This cannot be as dramatic or as vital as the discovery, so it cannot be as interesting. The interest must fall with the action. But here arises one of the nice points of play building. If something can be found to prolong and heighten the interest, then the play can continue and the climax will be reduced to a crisis. The essential difference between climax and crisis is that crisis heightens suspense and climax ends it. If we can prolong the suspense we can work to a new and stronger climax. If Ben can prevent Jane and the detective from making use of the confession; if he can, for example, overpower them and make them his captives, then the story continues because the issue is yet in doubt. Now the interest takes a new twist and concerns itself with the problem of how Jane is to make use of the information she possesses for Joe's benefit. No longer is the confession the terminal point of suspense. Suspense will not end until the confession can be used to save Joe and so achieve the object of the play. Action can continue to the climax so long as suspense continues and increases and this subsequent action should be more intense than that which has gone before. A diaixammatic representation of the plot should offer a succession of peaks and valleys, each peak a little higher than the last and each valley above the level of the one before it. The highest peak represents the climax, and from there the diagram of the action slants sharply toward the bottom. In its best form, the diagram ends with the attainment of the highest point. More than this, each peak should not only be higher than the last, but the relative increase in height should be greater toward the close. At the start of a play explanations should be made. These should be gotten out of the way early before the movement of the plot fairly commences. At the start the crises are not strong, relatively not much stronger than the falling action. Here the explanations will not be as intrusive as will be the case later on when the plot action quickens. At the start the crises are spaced further apart. They come closer together as they gain in strength, but they should never come with such rapidity that the mind of the spectator cannot grasp and assimilate one before the next is presented. Press agents love to tell of stories in which every scene is a crisis, but these stories are not the best because they fail of their fullest effect and leave the spectator bewildered and unable to assimilate all of the points of the story. It is not artistry to assemble a succession of crises in close order. It is far better and more workmanlike to so space the crises that each is assimilated and understood and yet keep them so close as the climax approaches that there is no appreciable wait. Illustrate this diagrammatically on your own typewriter. Slip a sheet of paper into the carriage and print twenty lower case m's. Now go up a few spaces and alternate between the key and the space bar. The first will give you a succession of letters so close together that they cannot well be distinguished. The second permits you to see the letter without confusion. It is the same way with crises too close together. They will run into each other and become jumbled and confused. In the diagram in Chapter IX, Paragraph 10, is shown a story in its crises. It is an excellent plan in writing to make a similar di- vision of the story into crises before developing the plot into action. A study of the diagram will show that each plot factor is, in effect, a crisis. By knowing where these crises come, you can plan your plot- ted action with more assurance than if you wrote it out without definite form or plan.